his name is bud.

his name is bud.
he has a round rough face.
his fingers shake and his knees are now to weak to hold his weight.
his white hair is combed neatly to the side each day.
his left eye twitches and his glasses catch all his tears.
he is tough and his gaze looks had and unforgiving. but he is just sad and exhausted.
there is a wrinkle by his lip, he says it has been there since the day he met Bessie.
the wrinkles in between and above his eyebrows were left from all the hours spent worrying and caring for his family.
the wrinkles on his hands and up his arms each tell a story of his seemingly endless days and short nights.
he misses Bessie more each day and you know his heart aches more than his bones.
his smile may not be as full as it once was but it is as sincere as ever.
his hugs are weak and when he holds you he let's you hold all the weight.
to many is it only the crusted eye, thin and bruised skin they see. but he is so much more than that,
his name is bud.